Shifting Sands
by icanhascamaro
Summary: Two years is nothing to a Cybertronian, but an eternity to a human. Sam isn't over the events caused by Sentinel's betrayal and wishes he could have done something more. It helps that Primus agrees with him. Post-DotM
1. Chapter 1

Hey, look! icanhascamaro _**can**_ write multiple chapter stories. Go figure :D

Currently, this story will be non-compliant with Age of Extinction. To be honest, I reeeeally have no plans to make it compliant with AoE. You know, unless certain Cybertronians (far too many to list, in my humble opinion) happen to be revived. This is more of an introduction chapter, so short chapter is short.

Also for this story, Jolt has resurfaced - and _wasn't_ killed off pre-DotM - and is just fine and dandy. The lesser twins? Not so much. I tried to fit them in, but I wasn't satisfied with my lack of ability to keep them in character. The greater twins? Weeeell, like my mom says, we'll see :)

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Transformers, or any character/name brand/island/movie/Cybertroniandeity/and/or/base mentioned within this story. This story has been created for entertainment purposes only.

**Warnings**: Sam has a teeny bit of a potty mouth. Like five or six times. Sorry :(

Please, enjoy. :)

* * *

_my spirit's sleeping somewhere cold_

_until you find it there and lead it _

_back_

_home_

* * *

Chapter One

**Diego Garcia**

I don't want to go to this meeting. I _so_ don't want to go to this meeting. Unfortunately, it seems it's important and I'm needed. Optimus himself sent me the memo, and yeah, it was highly amusing to see the Prime sending a memo. By email, no less.

But still and all, Optimus sending out the call to me personally meant that I couldn't bow out of this one.

_Damn._

"Sam, why are you so reluctant to go to a meeting?"

Bee's voice rang out around me, as I was sitting in his alt as he drove us to the hangar the meeting was taking place in.

"Well, it's like this, Bee," I paused, thinking, and then continued. "Does Sideswipe still miss his brother? Sunflower, or whatever."

"Sun_streaker_," Bee's voice was highly amused. "And as they happen to be spark twins, I'd guess that yes, he misses his twin."

"Yeah, okay, well, I'd rather do one-on-one combat training with Sideswipe, with a _spoon_ as my only weapon, when he's in one of his really angsty 'I miss my bro' moods than to go to this meeting."

Bumblebee, my guardian and (once again) all around best bud, snickered at me. It was the only way to describe the venting of air that came from him. Unless he'd burped and I doubted it was that. "That's pretty bad."

"Tell me about it," I said as I slumped in the driver's seat. "You sure we can't go and do something else? Pretend a Con was sighted somewhere in, oh I don't know, _Antarctica_?"

"You hate the cold, Sam."

"That I do, Bee," I said, reflecting momentarily on those cold winter nights in DC. Not even Carly had been enough to keep me warm...uh...sometimes. "That I do."

We got to the hangar all too soon. The huge doors were wide open, and would be until everyone was there. Then they would close for privacy's sake. The hangar was reinforced to guard against any surprise attacks and/or unintended audio leaks. Even with Soundwave offline, you never knew who could be trying to fire on us or listen in. Lesson learned the first time around.

As he rolled into the hangar, I could see Sideswipe, Ratchet, and Optimus in their mech forms, standing near the elevated platform that held the conference table the meeting was being held on.

Bumblebee slowed and stopped near Sideswipe (who muttered a "fragging, _finally_" in a not that low of a voice), opening the door for me. "Better now than never, Sam."

"Can't I pick never?"

"Nope."

With a groan, I slipped out and sighed. I heard Bee transforming behind me and, on turning around, I looked up at my guardian. "It's not that I want one, but can I get a lift?" Because there was a set of stairs leading up to the platform, but I was feeling lazy. Plus, who wanted to arrive at a meeting all sweaty and out of breath, when one could get a lift via Autobot?

Bee crouched down and offered a flattened palm. I stepped on and held onto his thumb as he stood up, and, up I went. It was like a really fast, but secure, elevator. Just with no walls or annoying muzak. Though if this was a different, and seriously less formal, situation I'm sure he'd offer some sort of music.

"Thanks, Bee," I said as I stepped off and onto the catwalk. Eyes turned to stare at me and I fought the urge to dive back onto Bee's palm, and demand that he burn rubber getting us out of there.

Except that we were on an _**island**_. We really didn't have far to run to.

Everyone that should be there was there. They were only waiting for us. Lennox fixed me with an annoyed glare and justifiably so. I'd dragged this out to the extreme. We were about forty minutes late. I was actually surprised Ratchet hadn't threatened Bee with a special exam.

Or maybe he had. Way to go, Bee, avoid taking one for the team. Team Sam, that is.

My eyes flicked over the gathered mechs and humans as I scrambled to find a seat. It suddenly felt very high school, _maybe_ college, as I looked for an empty seat. The table was rectangular, with seats all around. The catwalk we were on was of a medium height that was tall enough for any mech from Bumblebee to Optimus to comfortably see all of us squishies. In my eyes, there were too many Cybertronians that _weren't_ there. Too many that hadn't survived to see us win the battle in Chicago.

The mechs present were Optimus, Ratchet, Bumblebee, and Sideswipe. The Wreckers had decided that they were far too needed on the racing circuit, and to be honest, they were. Plus, with the schedule they had, they were all over the place, racing and looking out for stray Cons all at once. It was a convenient two birds/one stone sort of deal.

The humans, well...there were about as many humans as mechs, but we were the higher ranking ones. Me, Lennox, Epps, Maggie, Simmons and, surprise surprise, Leo. Now, Leo wasn't exactly highest ranking, but he was up there because he was just as good (or in his eyes, better) than Simmons. Those two were our eyes online.

And there was one more person. The very person who was the reason behind my procrastination.

She didn't say anything. She just had on that knowing smirk, which graced her gorgeous face. Yeah, you know it. Mikaela was here. She'd been on a base in England for three years, training under Jolt, until the shit hit the fan thanks to Sentinel. Then she was transferred to Diego Garcia to assist Ratchet after the battle had ended. She'd been here and I hadn't known. I'd been here for _seven months_ and never crossed paths with her until two weeks ago. All that time and I didn't know! Did I ream Bee out? Hell yes, I did, because he and everyone on the freaking base knew. I didn't know why they didn't tell me.

Her eyes caught mine and my face flushed.

Okay, so _maybe_ I knew.

"Dude, here!" Leo's voice broke the trance I was in and he waved wildly. "Saved you a spot, man."

Grateful for the escape, and the location because Leo was on one side and end of the table and Mikaela was on the other, I speed walked my ass over there.

"Thanks, Leo."

"Don't worry about it," he slapped my back. "Bill's in the mail, Sam."

"Can we get to business, please?" Lennox snapped out. "Now that everyone is _finally_ present and accounted for, we've got a lot to discuss."

It was then that I noticed that what looked like a texbook was in front of everyone. Mentally, I groaned. This was gonna take _forever_.

* * *

It's weird how saying twenty four months, instead of two years, sounded like a shorter amount of time than two years. It was amazing what could happen in that span of time. Twenty four months ago, things were different. Things were better. Not perfect, but normal. Better than how things turned out. And that wasn't to say that life as I knew it was unrecognizable, because it wasn't.

Not exactly.

For everyone else, everyone that hadn't known about Cybertronians? _Everything_ was different.

People hadn't been aware of Cybertronians. They did their own thing. Shopped, worked, played, loved.

After a long, hard winter, people (this applies to those who get a cold winter, mind you) had been looking forward to summer. No brains needed to figure that out.

And then things changed.

The world changed.

Bots went crazy.

Innocent people died.

Good mechs were hurt.

Mechs like Ironhide, that I'd once considered indestructible due to how badass he was, had been killed.

So many mechs died that day in Chicago. And before that, in DC, when Ironhide was the first to die. Taken out with a cowardly shot to the back by Sentinel Prime. There was nothing much left of him but a pile of rust. The GMC logo that had been on his alt form's grille had been found in the area. Somehow it had been blasted off and was unaffected. I'd made sure that Lennox had gotten it.

Much like just about anyone I knew, outside of movies, I hadn't seen death up close and personal. I hadn't known death as well as the Autobots knew it. They'd fought far longer than my entire species had existed. I mean, there were movies and news reports where you both see and hear about people who died. But I hadn't actually ever _seen_ anyone die. Not until Sentinel introduced me to death. I'd been there. I'd seen Ironhide die. He was the toughest, no…_fiercest_...Autobot I'd known.

Okay, granted I hadn't known them for very long. Not even a decade, which was like the time it took an Autobot to sneeze, but it was long to me. In that time, I'd gotten to know them. It was intense to know that, not only was my car not just a car, he had friends that were the same as he was. Having them in my life, especially Bee, became the norm.

But that was before college, when it was cool to have a secret. When that secret was that you knew aliens that could step on those bullying you or otherwise making your life miserable. Not that Optimus would let them, but still, I knew aliens. It was kind of the shit. Going to drive in movies with Bee and Mikaela, the beach, and long ass road trips where you could be smug about not needing to refuel your muscle car.

College, before and after, was when adulthood smacked me in the face and I'd done my best to _**not**_ know them. I'd done my best to make sure they weren't in my life. Maybe that's why Ironhide's death hurt so much, even now. Survivor's guilt? Maybe.

Looking back on it, I was slightly amazed that we didn't see Sentinel's betrayal from the start. I wished that I could have done something to prevent it. Something to have warned Optimus. Maybe Sentinel could've been killed first and there'd been less deaths, human and bot alike.

Because what ended up happening in Chicago was nothing like the attack in Qatar that first introduced people to violent mechs or Egypt where Devastator was humping the great pyramid. This had nothing on the Fallen showing my picture to the world and demanding that I be turned over to him. What happened then was almost child's play. What happened in DC and Chicago was pretty much a live action _Independence Day_. Only without Will Smith to save the day.

For a brief moment, Cybertron, as in the _planet_ Cybertron, had filled the sky. It was as awesome as it was terrifying. I couldn't imagine what it must've been like for Optimus or the others to see their home planet – so close but so far away – and I never asked either one of them.

I could only guess it must've hurt. Yeah. If the situations had somehow been reversed, it would've hurt me deeper than anything I could possibly imagine.

Me. Yes and then there was me. In Chicago, I had to stay back and hide as if I was any other person. Nothing special about me. I was just Sam Witwicky. I didn't have the All Spark, didn't have the Matrix, and my guardian was kneeling with Soundwave's cannon to the back of his head.

Carly had been sobbing at that point, but I think it was more out of fright for her safety than Bee's. It showed. I couldn't blame her, yet I was struck at how different she was from Mikaela.

Brave "my dick's bigger than his" Mikaela.

Mikaela had raced _into_ battle in Mission City with Bee. She ran _with_ me through the desert battlefield in Egypt. I know damned well she would've done similar in D.C. and especially in Chicago.

I mean, I _think_ she would. At any rate, she'd have done something other than cry inside of a trashed car.

Could I diss Carly like that? Nah. She was supermodel gorgeous, and the roughest thing she normally did had nothing on running from killer Cybertronians, or Soundwave's disgusting tentacles, or Shockwave's huge worm mech thing. Did it even count as a mech, or was it just a robot? And lets not forget the slip sliding through a tilting skyscraper thing. I'd had nightmares about that for months after the battle. Just me, the beam, and a whole bunch of dangling over the Chicago business district. Sometimes I fell. Sometimes Optimus caught me. It sucked either way.

Anyway, when we were hiding in that upturned car, it made me realize something. Carly and me..._not_ gonna happen. She seemed to realize that as well. Despite sharing more kisses after the danger was gone, the heat wasn't there. We were kissing because our butts weren't toast. Because we didn't end up as a pile of bones or ash on Wacker drive. It still shook me to remember seeing the abandoned cars on the expressway into the city, to see a person be hit with an energy blast and have nothing left of them, of their _entire life_, but a pile of ash. If they were lucky, they were ash. Some people had just vanished. Mere seconds for full annihilation.

But not us. We were _alive_.

Carly would say that she was the one to dump me, but it was almost a mutual thing. It happened a month after Chicago. It was almost a replay of Mikaela dumping me, but with Carly breaking up with me there was relief. With Mikaela, there had been the feeling of my heart being ripped out and stomped on by her combat boots.

A few weeks after the break-up, Will Lennox contacted me and let me know that NEST was up and running permanently. Apparently it was safer to have NEST there and working with the Autobots, than for there to be no Autobots and having a repeat of Chicago, or worse.

Lennox let me know that he, Epps, Fig, and the whole crew were back on Diego Garcia. That they had a place for me there, if I wanted it.

Honestly, I had almost said no.

I'd thought long and hard about it. I had been home back in Tranquility (luckily mom and dad hadn't repurposed my bedroom) and had gone back to the Overlook, for old times sake, and to just think. A greater part of me said to stay and look for a job. To just let Lennox's offer go. A lot of Decepticons had died in the battle, and whoever was left was surely running on empty, either in hiding or doing their best to leave earth. Surely I'd be safe and not have to worry about much more than making sure I had enough money for rent. I could live my life, not worry about Decepticons trying to take over the planet, and worry about finding that girl that was right for me.

Because nothing could top what happened in Chicago. Right?

Of course, I'd assumed the same thing after battling the Fallen in Egypt and I'd been very wrong. Chicago had happened. And wouldn't it be better if that didn't happen again?

So there I was, staring beyond Bee in the general direction of the sun, reflecting, remembering, and reminding myself of all the reasons why I should go to Diego Garcia, instead of why I should let it go. With the sun setting behind him, Bee (who had been standing in front of me, looking exasperated) had slid into his sleek alt mode and gently revved his engine as he opened the passenger door.

I'd hesitated for a moment until Bee's radio came to life. My cheeks had flushed with slight embarrassment when my voice flowed through his speakers:

_"In fifty years from now, don't you want to be glad you had the guts to get in that car?"  
_  
My radio-tuned voice had that slightly choppy, static quality of Bee's, but it solved my internal war.

I got in the car.

_Again_.

My job turned out to be the Autobot's liaison, and it wasn't as if that position wasn't a given. The Autobots knew they could trust me, knew I wouldn't block their efforts to do things like Galloway had, and I wouldn't be a bitch like Mearing had been. The position paid disgustingly well and I had my own private quarters on base. Mom and Dad hadn't put up a fuss, mainly because they were glad to get me out of their house – again. You know, other than having me promise to visit at all holidays, not just government ones. My leaving for DG wasn't nearly as bad as when I left for college, or when I left for DC.

DG, DC...I sure had a thing for living in the D's.

I slipped into a routine on DG. Life was good. Not great, but good. I discovered that while all of the 'Con bodies had been, on order of the President and all his little men, dropped in the trench, Optimus had successfully recovered all 'Bot bodies. Or in Ironhide's case, what was left of it.

Even though I knew how precious each Autobot life was, thanks to me destroying the All Spark, the battle in Chicago had hit me upside the head even more about just how important each Cybertronian was. Autobot or Decepticon. Jazz's death sucked, but it hadn't been hard to swallow because I hadn't known him long. Ironhide's death was a punch in the gut because I _had_ gotten to know him.

In the heat of the moment, killing Starscream had been exhilarating. But thinking back on it, it was almost a pathetic way to go. No one had really mourned the deaths of the Decepticons, not like they had with the fallen Autobots. It was almost sad. Millions of years fighting each other, and no one to mourn your death? At times, I wondered how more advanced their species could've been if they hadn't been fighting each other. And I wondered if they remembered the true purpose of their war.

There were times when I wished that I hadn't killed Starscream. I know, stupid to think because he'd have had no such qualms in killing me. But I did regret it. I wished that none of them had died here on Earth. It seemed kind of pointless, you know? Well, except for Sentinel. Traitors sucked. At least you knew the Decepticons were, generally speaking, the bad guys. You knew where you stood with them. Pretty much as a smudge under their feet.

It still blew my mind as to how old they were. Even Bee was seriously old, and he was young to his species. They _weren't_ newly sparked. They were mechs who had fought side by side for millennia. They were older than the human race. Older than our planet. Ironhide himself was supposed to be older than Optimus. Jetfire had been far older than Ironhide.

And they had lives, loves, hates_.  
_  
It struck me on how every person in Chicago who had died by a Decepticon weapon shared something with any Bot killed by a Con (and for argument's sake, vice versa). We humans weren't as long lived, obviously, but we all wanted to _live_.

Bah. I'm digressing. See? Big word. Digress. I went to college and actually graduated. Yeah, I'm feeling kinda smug.

So, DG, routine. It was cool. I adapted. Adjusted.

But then the dreams started. Freaky dreams that were uncomfortably similar to meeting the Primes.

Mainly because I _was_ meeting the Primes.

:_We need you again, boy...:  
_

* * *

AN:

So, Sam was doing a lot of introspection there. Hope it wasn't too boring. More action in the next chapter!

This is set roughly two years after the movie release date. I don't think that Bay ever set a specific year in the movie, but I might be wrong. Drop me a line if I am.

Regarding Bumblebee's voice. I don't believe he's got a whole British accent thing going on. In my humble opinion, that whole "I wish to stay with the boy" seemed too old for his character. To me, Bee sounds more like Mike Shinoda, aka Mr. Linkin Park, the guy who sang the _**Second to None**_ "check on the rep, yep" clip he played when Optimus was introducing everyone to Sam and Mikaela. If the British accent thing is more your cup of tea, hey, whatever floats your boat. :D

Updates will come on Wednesdays!


	2. Chapter 2

x o x o

* * *

AN: Okay, I know I said I'd update on Wednesdays. However I realized (thanks to an email from an anonymous person, and thank you for the insight ^_^) that the first chapter was reaaaaallly introspecty and felt kind of short. Here's a stunning new chapter to read, right in time to beat off those Monday blahs.

Anyone catch the movie quote in the previous chapter? Hint: Sam said it. Or, thought it. Introspected it? :) it's in quotation marks

Thank you, all, for the reviews, favorites, and follows!

Next chapter up on Wednesday :D

* * *

Hey look! Primes! Awesome.

* * *

The dream came a few weeks after that meeting. It had happened the night that I returned to Diego Garcia from a liaison trip to the east coast of the US.

Exact Location and Purpose of my trip: Classified. (though mainly it was just entirely too boring to tell you about. I really don't want to bore you. I was bored enough as it was. It's kind of unfair to share that sort of boredom.)

So in my dream, I saw the Primes. Save that this was an actual _dream_, where I'd fallen asleep instead of just dying for a little while. It was creepy in that the surroundings were identical to the first meeting I had with them, where they were taller than Optimus and I was really freaking small. Yeah. Nothing had changed there.

At the very least, would it hurt them to at least have us all being the same height?

_:There is no time for foolishness.:_

And apparently they could read my thoughts in my dreams. Creepy.

"Why are you here? In my dream?"

_:You are needed by Primus.:_

_Primus? _My jaw gaped for a second. "P…Primus? You mean like _the _Primus? Oh, my Primus, Primus?"

There was a slight hissing sound that filled the air, almost background noise. Like when you're at the beach and the waves hitting the shore fade into just noise. A couple of the Primes shifted their stances, bearing weight on one foot then the other.

It dawned on me that they had to be having a private comm conversation. It was a little annoying. "Uh, guys? I'm down here."

Huge heads, each one easily as long as I was tall, swung in my direction. Glowing red eyes – and that was just a _bit_ creepy, let me tell you that much – focused on me with a predatory feeling. It didn't help that I associated red eyes with Decepticons, and yeah, those are the bad guys.

Maybe getting their attention wasn't such a great idea.

_:We hear you, Samuel Witwicky, and we know __**exactly**__ where you are.:_

Well, that made one of us, was what I wanted to say, but I held my tongue on that front. "What is it that Primus needs from me?" My words were brave, but inside I was shaking. What was there that the Cybertronian god needed that he couldn't get from anyone but me? What could I do that he couldn't?

_:Ironhide,: _the Prime to the extreme right hissed out. _:Dead, should not be dead.:_

_:His time had not yet come,: _a Prime near the center of the conga line said in an even tone. _:He was wronged.:_

_:You will correct this error,:_ said a lanky Prime to the left. _:Correct it as Primus wishes.:_

"_How_?" I felt mixed emotions. Ironhide wasn't supposed to be dead? How the hell was I supposed to fix _**that**_?

Another Prime spoke and this time the voice was slightly feminine. A femme Prime? It had been so long since I had last seen them, I honestly couldn't remember if I'd noticed a femme the first time I'd seen them. Plus, you know, finding out that I'd _died_ and had been sent back with the order to bring Optimus back to life…yeah, gender sorting of the Primes hadn't been big on my to do list at the moment.

_:You will find Ironhide for us, Samuel, and we will help you bring him back.:_

"Find him?" I looked around at the Primes. "Wait, what do you mean by that?"

_:You will find him,: _The feminine one spoke again, and the others agreed with her. The phrase _:Find him: _echoed around us, spoken by all of them at once. As if they were one.

"Okay, I'll find him," I ground out in frustration. "But _how_ am I supposed to find him? Last I knew, whatever Optimus had left of Ironhide was somewhere on the Diego Garcia base." I paused. "So wouldn't that consider him found?"

There was a low humming sound then, a noise that mixed with a sudden deep bass sound that reverberated around all of us. Or maybe it was just around me. It almost sounded like a growl, which made me think that mentioning all that was left of Ironhide, one of their _top warriors_, was a pile of rusty dust, wasn't such a smart idea. Plus pointing it out in such a sarcastic manner that I already knew where said warrior was…also not too smart.

"What I mean is…"

But the Prime to the ultimate right interrupted me. _:We know what you meant, youngling, and we are not insulted by your words. You are young. The ability to be foolish is yours.:_

I was almost insulted by him, though my exasperation overruled that. "I don't _**understand**_! What am I supposed to do?"

There was a slight pause, interrupted only by that low humming. Of course, it was completely obvious by now that they were holding a comm meeting of their own. Private and by invitation only, please.

The Prime in the center spoke again. _:When the time draws closer, you will be contacted again.:_

Needless to say, I almost fell to the floor at that. All of this for nothing?

_:All of this was not nothing,:_ It was the femme again, though she sounded highly amused. _:All of this was to prepare you. Now you know that Primus is asking something of you.: _Her red, red optics blazed and I couldn't move for all the power that gaze held. It was fixed on me like a laser target. _:And when Primus speaks, you must listen. The fate of the world once again rests with you.:_

Then I was free from that paralyzing fear and in slight embarrassment, I looked away for a second. "That's just a bit dramatic…right?" I blinked back up at the Primes only to see that they had vanished. "What the…Guys? And, uh, femme? Hello? Anyone?"

But only a low, deep bass vibration answered me, kind of like an errant gust of wind. I almost expected to see a tumbleweed bounce by.

Nothing.

Frustrated, I threw my hands up. "Hello? _Anyone_ care to even say goodbye anymore?"

Again with the nothing.

I let my arms fall to my sides. "Fine, but I'm waking up. And if I wake up only to find that it's almost six and I'm exhausted, I'm gonna be pissed."

Again there was nothing but that low bass sensation. Only this time it seemed amused.

With a sigh, I closed my eyes and did my best to wake up.

* * *

Fortunately enough, when I forced my eyes open, the first thing that I saw was an alarm clock that read 2:58 am.

Happily, I sighed and shut my eyes. Luck was with me again because sleep soon took me over.

* * *

Though the next day dawned bright and early, I didn't. I slept in until about ten, when I was woken up by a very annoying, very familiar sound.

"You know, you're pretty lucky and all, what with the doorways here being too small for any normal sized mech to get through, but your me time is gonna run out pretttty fast if you don't get up soon. Like two hours ago."

Pulling the blankets up over my head, I groaned. "Wheelie, _why_ are you here?"

"Boss Bot said if I didn't come wake you up, he was gonna send down reinforcements."

Since I was still half asleep, it wasn't like I cared, but what the hell. Some statements required questioning. "Like who?"

"Last I heard, Lennox was gonna come down, get you, and drop you out into the morning training sessions with all them other rookies."

"Fine," I muttered, sitting up and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "But get out of here. I don't need an audience when I'm getting dressed."

My eyes burned with exhaustion.

_Ugh, I really hate jet lag._

"Oh, trust me, Romeo," the little mech snorted. "You ain't got nothin' I want to see. I don't need my other optic burned out by your scrawny frame."

"Both of your optics are fine," I glared at him. "Out."

Wheelie shifted down into his R/C mode and darted out, mumbling incredibly insulting things about my lack of a love life as he did. I threw my pillow after him, but my aim sucks. The pillow bounced off of my desk, against a stack of five novels perched near the edge, and fell onto the floor, taking along the books that had been precariously stacked to begin with.

My quarters here at DG were a little odd. To be honest, it reminded me a bit of a hotel suite. Don't get me wrong. It's not huge. When you walk into my quarters, you're in a mix of a living room and a kitchen. There's a private bathroom, complete with a shower/tub combo. Then there's my bedroom. I've got enough room for a small desk, a full sized bed, a nightstand, and a dresser. Obviously I was far luckier than the recruits Lennox had, but I wasn't about to be bringing any girls over for a romantic night in. Then again, I'm on an awkwardly shaped island that's closer to India than the US. I'm probably _not_ gonna be getting many romantic nights.

Groggily, I stood up and padded over to the window. It was a small window near my bed that overlooked a slight expanse of concrete roadway, and on to one of the many hangars that were part of the base.

My fogged mind cleared somewhat. That hangar was one of the buildings that were for the Autobots.

A familiar flash of yellow breezed by that hangar, hastily clearing out the last of my brain fog.

_Bumblebee_.

Meeting the Primes in my dream had brought back all of the crap that had gone down with Sentinel, and quite suddenly, I wanted to do something less than manly. I wanted nothing more than to be there with Bumblebee, just to reassure myself that yes, he was there. He was fine. He wasn't dead.

_Damn_, I thought a bit bitterly about all of the lives lost from those battles. _I __**really**__ hate you, Sentinel. _

Enough moping around. I had Autobots to talk to.

* * *

Being that it was December, and that I had been on the east cost for a couple of weeks for the liaison thing, it was great to be back in the tropical heat of Diego Garcia. It was a little steamy on my walk over to the main hangar, but I knew the hangar was air conditioned. 'Bots aside (who weren't bothered by a little heat or humidity), there were a lot of computers inside that needed a cool, dry atmosphere, and it didn't hurt the humans either.

Despite the familiar throaty growl that had come up behind me, and even though turning around was all that I wanted to do, I didn't stop or turn around. Not even when I felt the heat rolling off of the metal of his Camaro form. As a matter of fact, I didn't stop until he rolled forward, slowly but faster than I could walk, and his bumper gently nudged the back of my legs.

This time, I did stop. "There _are_ other ways of getting my attention."

"Not as much fun." His vocal processor was lightyears better than it had been when I first got to DG. Back then it had still been a little raw sounding, but it had gotten closer to being fully operational each time he used it. By now it was perfect. His age, which was far older than I could dream of, seemed young when he talked.

With a grin, I turned around and teasingly raised an arm to shield my eyes as I looked down at his shiny hood. "Geeze, Bee, tone down the wax, okay?"

His engine gave off a pleased rumble. "Optimus wants to see you." The driver's door popped open as an additional invite. "Want a ride?"

Given the dream I had? The choice was fairly obvious. I walked around and slipped inside, letting Bee close the door. Almost the same as when I first sat inside him (and damned if that didn't sound weird as all get out), I rubbed my thumb over the Autobot symbol on his steering wheel. "I'm glad I came back."

Even though my words were completely out of left field, it was obvious he knew what I was talking about. "Me, too, Sam," Bee's voice rolled around me. He started forward, moving smoothly over the concrete and emitting cool air from his vents.

You know, when you realize your car is actually an alien robot, all sorts of things that are normal with any real car turn really…bizarre. Because, like, this cold air? It's air conditioned, but not the same way that my mom's Kia will air condition the air. It's at that point when you realize that there are some things better off just being accepted.

"I had missed this," I murmured.

"You were only gone for two weeks, Sam."

"Not that. _Then_, Bee, when I was in DC." I felt an uncomfortable mix of guilt and embarrassment. "This…you…everything. I still feel like such an asshole for…for the time I wasn't here."

"It's okay, Sam," Bee said as he veered to the right to enter an open hangar. "You're here now and that's all that matters."

I smiled even as I yawned. "I'm so tired."

"You didn't sleep well?"

Shaking my head, knowing he would see me doing so, I yawned. "No. I…I had a really weird dream. I guess it did something, I don't know. Maybe it kept me from getting into a deep relaxing sleep."

"Recharge _is_ important." Ever my Guardian, Bee asked me a simple question. "What did you dream of?"

A simple question, really, except for the _content_ of my dream. Okay, so maybe if I'd been dreaming about Mikaela it could be an easy answer. Kind of. It's just that my dream included the Primes of Cybertron. As such, I hesitated to answer and Bee picked up on that.

"Sam?"

Up ahead I saw into the open hangar. Optimus and Ratchet were both in their mech forms, talking with Lennox, who was up on the raised platform/catwalk thing. Bumblebee stopped just inside the hangar.

"It was weird, Bee. I'm not sure if I want to talk about it."

"_Aww, but you can trust me!"_ A little girl chirped from Bee's speakers.

It got me to laugh. "Bee, you're supposed to be using your vocal processor thing, not your radio."

"_Tell me, me…" _Natalie Imbruliga sang from the speakers.

"Okay, fine," I shook my head, even though a bit of anxiety rose in my gut. "It was, uh, well, you remember when I…when I died, right? In Egypt."

Bee sank on his tires. "Sam, I don't need to know if you don't want me to know."

Realizing what he meant, that he didn't want to stress me out, was reassuring. I rubbed at his steering wheel. "Nah, it's okay. It's not about that, not exactly. It was when I was dead and I met the Primes. Remember that?"

"_Yes_." One word, but laced with a lot of wariness and a hint of _wtf did I get myself_ _into_.

"They were in my dream last night."

He slowly rose back up to a normal position on his tires and continued driving slowly towards the three ahead of us. "That's not too weird, I suppose."

"Except I'm not sure it _was_ a dream, Bee." I took a deep breath, released it, and continued. "They were talking as in talking _to_ me. It was like we were having a regular conversation. Just like you and me right now."

"You need to talk to Optimus about this."

Shaking my head, I declined. "No, Bee, not just yet. I…they were chatty, but didn't make a lot of sense."

"Still…"

Deliberately changing the subject, I interrupted him. "I'm not barging in on a private meeting, am I?"

"No, Sam, nothing out of the ordinary." Bee still sounded concerned, but resigned to let me change the subject. "He wants to talk to you, anyway."

"Okay, because if I was…Well, you know, I'm sure there are a lot of other things we could be doing."

Bumblebee stopped moving. "Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe drive around this tiny island, chill out on the beach, race Sideswipe. You know. Stuff."

"That will have to wait, Samuel." Optimus' voice rolled around me like distant thunder.

I leaned back in the seat with a small groan. Bee had discreetly rolled down his windows and I hadn't noticed. "Hey, Optimus." With that, Bee opened the door and I got out. With a bit of a stretch, I nodded up at the Prime.

Optimus nodded to me. "I trust your recharge was good."

I nodded, even as Ratchet spoke up with a "If you haven't, you can stop by the medbay for something to relax you."

_Yeah, no thanks, Ratch…_

Crossing my arms across my stomach, I looked up at the Prime. "So, what's up?"

Bumblebee shifted out of his alt mode and stood behind me. "He had a weird dream, Optimus."

_Rat! _I glared at Bee for a second before looking back at Optimus. "Yeah, I had _a_ weird dream, as in one. It's nothing." I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could while holding back an annoyed glare at Bee. Instead I kept looking up at Optimus. "You know, I dream. Humans dream. Sometimes we dream of weird stuff."

"Primes."

I had to clarify this. "Not you, though. Like, not you and a bunch of clones sorts of Primes."

"You had dreams of the Primes?"

"Dream as in one." I sighed tiredly. "So far, anyway."

Optimus looked pensive. "Keep me updated if you have any other dreams, Sam. Messages from the Primes, no matter how annoying, must never be ignored."

"Right, got it," I nodded, then rubbed my hands together once. "So, what's up?"

Optimus' optics flickered skyward. "You mean, other than the sky?"

"I…uh…Yeah?" Then I saw the flicker of his optics and a quirk to the corner of his lip plating. "You're totally messing around with me, aren't you?"

"Even a Prime deserves a little time off."

"For good behavior, right?" I rolled my eyes.

"Of course."

"Optimus, you need to talk to him." Ratchet, ever the kill joy, stepped up beside Optimus.

"If it's about Mikaela, I really don't want to talk about it."

The second that Optimus looked even the slightest bit sheepish was when I groaned.

"Seriously, Optimus? You want to talk to me about _Mikaela_?"

The Prime gave a little shrug. "It has come up in other meetings."

"Meetings?" My jaw almost dropped to the floor. "You bring up my relationship with Mikaela in _meetings_?"

"It's hardly a relationship, Samuel," Ratchet scoffed. "You're not dating her."

"That's really beside the point, Ratchet."

"It is not, as you say, beside the point," the medic stared down at me. "As a matter of fact, you were not even aware that Mikaela was on the same base that you were on."

"Mute point, Ratchet."

"The proper phrase is moot point."

"I don't really care!" I threw up my arms. "Optimus, how could you do that to me? I thought we were bros, man."

"The two of you are not bros." Ratchet snorted. "And he's hardly a man."

"Dude, shut it, please!"

When the medic glared down at me, Bee totally inappropriately played the _Jaws_ theme through his speakers.

"I might not have any sway over Samuel," Ratchet's voice was smoothly dangerous. "But I know where you recharge, Bumblebee."

The music came to a skipping halt.

"The only means of recourse that was suggested was to relocate Mikaela to the base in California," Prime's soothing tones rumbled around me. "I can have her study with Jolt there."

The solution Optimus brought up had me shaking my head. "No. I can't do that to her." I looked over at the medic, who was still glaring silently. "I bet Jolt is every bit as smart as our _gracious_ CMO..." I ignored Ratchet's soft snort, "...but I know she must love training under you, Ratchet. Mechanic stuff is what she lives for. I can't take her away from the best teacher in the galaxy."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Samuel."

With a grin, I shrugged. "Figured it couldn't hurt to try."

Ratchet shook his head. "I've had enough of this slag for one day." And with that, the medic stormed off, transforming as he left the hangar and driving off.

That left me with the Prime and my Guardian. I looked up at the big guy and, as nonchalantly as possible, asked him, "So, nice weather we're having, huh?"

* * *

So, how about that! Sam has a secondary job now, in addition to the whole liaison thing. I wonder...just how _will_ he bring back Ironhide. Hmm.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three - Nightmares

* * *

Anyone ever hear about a chicken that lived for two years without a head? Extremely sad, since the beheading happened when the poor thing was only five and a half months old, but true.

Thank you, 1940's.

* * *

My arms and legs ached fiercely as I gripped onto the girder for all I was worth. Freezing cold wind gusted around me, pulling and pushing at me. Below me, far, _far_ below me, was some deserted street in downtown Chicago.

Up above me, the sun beamed down hotly, sending trickles of sweat down my face, down my back, and along the palms of my hands. It was disgusting and dangerous. My hands burned with the effort of keeping my hold.

Behind me, where the rest of the building was, I could hear Carly calling to me, offering words of encouragement, but doing nothing more. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to not be here, anywhere but here, but nothing happened.

My thighs hurt from grabbing the beam and my shoes were starting to feel loose. A drop of sweat rolled down my temple and into my left ear.

This was all so familiar. A part of me said I was living this, while a larger part said I was dreaming, but it didn't really matter all that freaking much to me, because I was dangling hundreds of stories above ground.

"Sam, you can make it, Sam!" Carly again. "Just come on back to me!"

"I can't!" I bit out. "If I move, I'm gonna to fall!"

Fall and no one would catch me. No Cybertronians, save for Optimus sometimes, knew how to fly. I killed Starscream, not like he would save me, but still, I didn't know of any flying mechs. Even if this was a dream, could you die in a dream and wake up in the morning? Every 80's horror movie I knew of said no.

So I really didn't want to die, but at the same time, I couldn't remember how I safely got out of this mess.

When a hand grabbed my wrist, I almost shrieked.

"Sam!"

Okay, so I _did_ shriek.

"Sam, _**look**_ at me!"

It was awkward, because the sun was in my eyes, but I did look. I almost lost my grip when I saw Mikaela staring down at me.

"Mikaela?"

"C'mon, Sam! We have to go help Optimus!" She was crouched on the beam, gripping my left wrist with one hand. "We can do this. _You_ can do this!"

"I...I can't! I'll fall!"

"No, you won't," she said with a shake of her head, sending dark tendrils of hair ghosting across her face. "I won't let you fall."

Somehow, she grabbed onto my hand and steadied me, helped me to swing around so I was sitting on the girder with her, facing her and the building. She smiled, even as a gust of wind blew her hair back away from her face. "See? That wasn't so bad."

The city was so far below us. When I looked down, I could see Driller, still wrapping himself around the base of the building.

"We have to go," I said it needlessly. I mean, it was plainly obvious.

She nodded. "Let's go."

"Don't go yet," a new, very familiar voice came from behind me. "Stay and play!"

With wide eyes, I looked behind me to see Starscream, _**headless**_ Starscream, hovering behind and beside me. "This has got to be a dream," I muttered, then looked back to Mikaela, only to see her edging back towards the building. "Hey! Don't leave me!"

"_**I**_ won't leave you!" Starscream giggled. "Say, have you ever wanted to try to fly?"

My stomach rose to my throat when he grabbed me with one hand, which had an ear splitting grinding sound coming from the elbow joint. Sparks flickered from Starscream's neck. How was he even talking?

"You're so tiny," the headless Seeker mused, lifting me up to what would've been eye level. "Like a little toy." With that, he glided backwards, away from the girder just a little.

I couldn't see Mikaela, because Starscream had me facing away. I could see the lake, see the sunlight sparkling on its surface. Then my surroundings blurred and spun as Starscream made me swoop and dive and then go back up, much like a little boy playing with a toy airplane.

My stomach spun and whirled, but I didn't throw up. Then he stopped and I leaned my forehead on the top of the nearest digit grabbing me. "Oh my G..." I groaned. "_Don't_ do that again!"

"I'll make a Seeker out of you, yet!" He giggled, then lifted me closer to the gaping wound of his neck. A growling sound came from that sparking void. "After all, you owe the Seeker world for what you did to me." He huffed out with amusement. "Time to fly, little Seekerlet."

And with that, he dropped me.

The scream that tore itself from my throat vanished in a second. Mikaela, the beam, and Starscream became pinpricks in the sky as I plummeted. Somehow I turned around in midair, facing the street, and feeling tears rip from my eyes at the speed I was going.

Only I didn't have to worry about going splat on the ground. I'd forgotten about Driller, but he hadn't forgotten about me.

The whirling bits that made up his mouth were spinning fiercely as the giant worm thing rose up to greet me.

* * *

My eyes snapped open in the darkness of my room, but I couldn't move a muscle for a few seconds. My breathing was harsh and fast, the only sound in the room. As the dream, no, _nightmare_, began to fade from my mind, I forced myself to sit up.

Cold air ghosted around me, a reminder of the cold winds in my dream, but this was from the a/c I'd somehow managed to set too cold before I'd gone to bed. It was a hot and muggy Diego Garcia night.

I'd never had this dream before. It made zero sense, because when we were trying to escape Driller, the building had already fallen on its side. There were no girders that any of us dangled from. It'd been internal support columns, and only Carly had really dangled. Not to mention, Driller was nearly on us. Even so, I'd had Chicago nightmares before, but this was the first time Starscream and Mikaela had been in any of my dreams. It was also the first time that Driller had, for lack of a better term, eaten me.

Come to think of it, I'd had nightmares after Mission City and Egypt, too. Nothing in my life had prepared me for anything like Mission City. Still and all, after a third incident, one would think that one would be somewhat ready for the aftermath. Not that I'd wanted there to be a second, or third, time around.

Eaten by Driller. That was a new one. I far preferred dreaming of a conga line of Primes.

And Mikaela. That was the first time I'd dreamed about her in...in a long while. Seeing her in the flesh hadn't been easy, but having nightmares with her in it sucked.

Even though I wanted to lay down, even though my body was screaming for sleep, I _couldn't_. After having had nightmares like this before, I knew that I wouldn't be able to sleep. Oh, there were more than a few remedies for nightmares like this. Taking a Benadryl (which would knock me out in about five minutes) or Dramamine (ditto). Or even reading a boring book (hence the five that were on my desk). Those were the easiest methods for getting back to bed. But in the times when I _didn't_ want to fall asleep, for fear of going right back into the same dream, I'd try to stay awake.

And staying awake meant doing something active, like working out, taking a walk, or (if it was close enough time-wise) just getting ready for the day.

In this instance, I didn't want to fall asleep. I had no desire to go back into a dream where I'd be eaten by something that could go through concrete and steel like Glenn could go through a twelve pack of doughnuts. So I got up, dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, slipped on a beaten up pair of sneakers, and left my quarters. I wandered out of the hangar (which was split up into four apartments, basically) and paused when the humidity hit me. It was the one thing about Diego Garcia that was hit or miss to me. At times I didn't mind it, and other times it laid me flat on my back. After being in my cool quarters, facing this humidity sucked.

I began to walk the base, knowing that the pass dangling from its clipped location on my hip pocket would open just about any door on any hangar, except the really top secret ones. It would also keep me from any awkward security eyes, as the pass had some kind of a microchip embedded in it that sent out a friendly signal indicating who I was. Bee told me that even the 'bots could pick up the signal.

There was a crunch of tires meeting gravel behind me.

Speak of the devil.

When I paused, Bee drove up beside me. "Can't sleep?"

"Nightmare."

My bud was a bot of few words. "Primes?"

I shook my head. "Chicago."

He paused and gently opened the driver's side door. "C'mon."

Wearily, I slipped inside, closing the door behind me. I sighed gratefully when the seat reclined, far flatter than any normal Camaro interior would allow. The headrest shifted into a pillow.

I hesitated. My anxiety spiked a little when I clearly saw Driller in my mind. "I don't know, Bee. It was a pretty messed up nightmare. I don't know if I want to go back to sleep." I laughed softly. "It was kind of the reason why I was walking around."

"You need your sleep."

"I need to not have another round of nightmares."

He coasted forward. "I know the pills from Ratchet didn't work that well..."

I snorted softly but relented a little and dropped against the reclined seat. "That's an understatement."

"You should see if he has anything else for you."

The plaintive tone of his voice got to me. "I just need time to work through it. There were a lot of things that went down in Chicago that I haven't dealt with."

"It's been two years, Sam, which I know is kind of long to humans, but..." He trailed off, clearly a bit frustrated over something.

"My procrastination comes from my dad," I said softly, tossing in a little laugh. "Oddly enough."

"Get some sleep, Sam. I'll wake you when it's time, okay?"

Turning onto my right side, I nodded. "Thanks, Bee."

"Anytime," he said in a fond tone of voice.

* * *

It was four weeks before anything else happened. Four weeks of meetings, downtime, sending the 'Bots off to small skirmishes with remaining 'cons (no one killed, though energon had been spilled and dents were accumulated), and me being generally successful at avoiding Mikaela. There'd been a couple of close calls where I'd caught a glimpse of her walking from one hangar to another, or seeing her helping Ratchet (as in with the aforementioned skirmishes), but luckily Optimus had prevented us being close. That included meetings. I hadn't been in one with her since sometime last month.

Um...I hadn't been _late_ to any other meetings either.

So, anyway. The pills from Ratchet that Bee had alluded to had been a nightmare in and of itself. Themselves? I had taken up on Ratchet's offer of a slight sedative, and promptly stopped taking the pills when a couple of side effects popped up. First off, I slept like I was in a coma for nearly a full day (this after taking one of the pills at nine the night before), and secondly, I had a zombie-like grogginess throughout the following day. I was just lucky no one teased me about it. At least, no one did it to my face.

But that was about four weeks ago. It wasn't until earlier today that a bottle of melatonin was delivered to me via Wheelie Express. The snarky minibot refused to tell me who sent it, but I had a sneaking suspicion who, and it rhymed with Schmikaela. The only other person who might have sent it to me would've been my mom, but since the bottle was delivered without it being sent in a gift bag with a brand new pair of undies, I was sticking with my Mikaela theory.

I was a little wary after the "Ratchet's trying to kill me" pills, but I ended up taking one of the melatonin pills at nine-thirty that night. It was crazy how I had a better sleeping schedule living on my own here (albeit at a military base on a tropical island that had alien robots on it) than I did anywhere else.

It was around ten when I began to feel the effects. I'd been sitting at my desk, skimming a report on my laptop, when I realized that my eyes were shutting on their own. I felt so very relaxed. Then I shook my head and felt a little more awake, enough to save the changes I'd made to the document and shut down the laptop.

After a quick jaunt to the bathroom, I stared in the general direction of my kitchen and shook my head. I'd do the dishes stacked in the sink tomorrow. Yawning, I shut off the lights and stumbled into bed. I barely had time to pull the lightweight top sheet over me before literally every bone in my body felt like it'd turned to mush. That old saying of falling asleep before my head hit the pillow so applied here.

At first it was a really nice dream. I was lounging on a white sandy beach, with Bumblebee behind me playing a nice soft song rumbling through his speakers. The sky was blue with puffy white clouds lazily drifting along, a warm breeze gently blew around us, and the sound of the surf gently lapping at the sand mixed in with the song.

_:This is really nice,: _a feminine voice said from beside me.

"Yup," I had my eyes closed, but wondered why Arcee was here. "You bet it is."

:_As much as I hate to interrupt this really nice dream, I have something to say, Samuel.:_

Dread filled me. Something very deep inside was screaming at me to not look over at the voice. Do not look over at Arcee. You won't like what you see.

But I looked anyway.

"What the fuck!"

_:Potty mouth, Sam,: _Femme Prime chided me. _:You shouldn't swear around a lady.:_

"You're a _**Prime**_!" I gawked at her. "And you're...you're...Is that a mai tai?"

_:It is an energon mai tai.:_ Femme Prime, who was on the world's largest beach blanket, elegantly rolled to lean on her right side to stare at me. She sipped her beverage, which was in a glass that looked like it could easily be a see-through tanker barrel of some sort. _:It's very good. Would you like to try it?:_

"Would I like to...Are you kidding me? Me drinking energon is like a dog lapping an entire bowl of melted chocolate."

_:So that's a no?:_

"Yes." I stared at her in disbelief. "I'm dreaming. I'm so dreaming this."

_:Then the mai tai won't hurt you.:_

I made a face. "I'm not trying your mai tai."

Her ruby optics flickered with what I assumed to be amusement. _:You're funny, Samuel.:_

"Thanks?"

She made a rumbling sound. _:Primus has a message for you.:_

"Of course he does."

_:We did warn you.:_

"I know you did. It's just that it's been four weeks already. I thought maybe you guys forgot."

_:Is four weeks a long length of time?:_

"For us it is."

_:Curious,: _was all she said as she took a sip through the world's largest straw. It looked like a hollowed out sequoia. _:At any rate, Primus wishes for you to know that your search for Ironhide shall soon commence.:_

"So he was serious about that?"

_:You betcha.:_

"You betcha?" I blinked twice. "Uh, you guys need to work on your catchphrases."

_:I like it,: _she said and took another sip before repeating herself. _:You betcha.:_

"Okay, well, what's the message?" I had to keep her on track. Sooner she got the message delivered, sooner (hopefully) she'd leave me to my peace and quiet.

Too quiet.

I looked back and saw that Bumblebee was gone. "Where'd he go?"

_:This is a dream, Samuel. Once the message is delivered, you can get back to it.:_

"He's okay?"

_:You are concerned with him. How cute. However, you are merely worried about the dream representation of your friend. In reality, he is currently recharging in the hangar he shares with Sideswipe.:_

"Huh," I frowned. "I thought he had his own hangar."

She shrugged. _:They'll be bunking for only a little while.:_

"Yeah. Wait, what?"

_:The message, Samuel, is delivered thusly.: _The mai tai vanished as she stood up. _:Very soon you will be given assistance in your search for Ironhide. He is somewhere on this island, though it will not be easy for you to find him. When you do, the search will more fully commence.:_

I sat up on my own beach blanket. "What do you mean, more fully commence? Won't I have found him once I find him?" I stared up at her. "What if I just ask Optimus or Ratchet where they're storing Ironhide?"

_:It is not going to be as simple as that.:_

"Of course not," I sighed. "Wasn't that easy when I found the Matrix in the tomb of the Primes."

Femme Prime made a noncommittal noise that sounded like a fax machine grinding and I realized my faux pas.

"Oh, uh, I mean..." I wanted a desk or wall to bang my head off of. I settled for wincing up at her. "Sorry. My bad."

She shrugged again. _:You helped to bring Optimus back, Samuel. That is the important thing. However, you are right. You found the Matrix and then lost it only to find it once again.:_

"I really hate riddles. Did you guys know that? Because I do. I _**really**_ do."

_:You will discover the reason why you must do this.:_

I really wanted to glare at her, but she could smoosh me. "You're all very ambiguous about this."

_:Trust in the assistance Primus gives you, Samuel.: _She smiled and it was kind of scary. _:When you get your help, do not be afraid of it. Let it guide you.:_

"Guide me? Like what? OnStar? PrimeStar? Some kind of gps? Are you guys gonna text me?"

_:So endearing! You're like that chatty little sparkling, Bluestreak.:_

"Who?"

_:Fare thee well, Samuel,: _The mai tai reappeared in her hand as Femme Prime cocked her head to the side. _:However, I do not think you require luck on this task.:_

"You're wrong! I need luck! Tanker trucks full of it!"

_:Goodbye, Samuel,: _And with that, she vanished, mai tai, beach blanket, and all.

Suddenly, Bumblebee was back, with the gentle music spilling from his speakers. The breeze resumed, and I'd not noticed until then that there hadn't been a breeze or any sound at all.

The Primes were kind of creepy.

And then when I leaned back and shut my eyes, darkness fell across me. My eyes snapped open to utter pitch dark and I sat up to find that I was in my room. A slanted beam of dim light came from the window to my left. I groggily remembered Epps mentioning something about a full moon and crazy shit. His words, not mine. However, I think he's right. Perfect timing on Primus' part to send me a crazy dream during a full moon, right?

Looking over at the clock on the nightstand, I saw that it read 2:22 am. I fell back onto the bed with a sigh, flopped over onto my side, and struggled to fall back asleep.

* * *

A couple of days later, I was walking along a central location of hangars, getting in a bit of exercise. I had to work on my endurance (a self-imposed goal) and figured walking would help out. That walking was the least strenuous of exercises (as opposed to the _oh __**hell**__ no_ boot camp that Lennox ran) was of little importance. Diego Garcia is a sprawling base and a lot bigger to walk around than the Google Maps visual of it makes it look like.

The hangars at Diego Garcia were arranged in what looked like a completely random way. I couldn't figure it out, even when I was given a map. If I didn't have Bumblebee with me (though he wasn't here now), I'd be utterly lost. There were some on the western point, some a little further down, and more closer to the runway. I'd been exploring towards the center area.

The sun was beating down on me, sweat was making its own little river down the center of my back (among other places), and I decided to take a little break in the shade of a nearby hangar. As I rounded it, aiming for the shade, I felt a little buzz along the hairs on my arm. I brushed at my arms, thinking that somehow I might have walked through a stray bit of spider webbing or something, but nothing was there.

And then the fun hit.

The feeling that gripped me was something I'd never felt before. I felt like I was being pulled, tugged by some invisible rope. I was scared, yet the Primes had told me to not be scared. But I had no control of my body or where I was, it was, walking to.

_When you get your help, do not be afraid of it. Let it guide you. _

Nothing like a really vague line of wisdom, right?

The pull led me to the hangar next to the one I was going to sit in the shade of. There was a symbol spray painted on it (Or maybe it was etched. Who knew?) that I recognized as Ratchet's medic symbol. It was one of the glyphs that had floated through my head years ago, and I remembered it. That and Ratchet had sent out a memo saying to not go into any hangars that had certain glyphs on them. This was one of them.

If I remembered the memo correctly, this was a secondary medical hangar that Ratchet had, which was located about a twenty minute walk (human length of time, not Cybertronian) from his main medbay. There was a human sized door near the main hangar door, and when my hand reached out to it, I heard a click coming from the door's lock. The handle, which looked like an awkward L, moved under my hand and the door swung open without a sound.

When I stepped inside, the hangar was dim, but I was still clearly able to see everything in it. The hangar was taller on the inside than it looked from outside, and it seemed to be full of spare parts, even some medical tools that had a slight layer of what I hoped was dust (and not sea salt) coating the metallic sheen. For all I knew, it was some sort of sand dust.

Off to the right side of the hangar was a huge table with wheels on the ends of the legs. There was a form on the table, draped with a white tarp. I couldn't see what was on there, but the form was large, long, yet small compared to the Cybertronians I knew. As I walked closer, I felt the buzzing along my arms increase and then subside and I knew without a doubt that it was Jazz's body.

When I stood next to the table, I lifted my hand and touched the leg of the table. Instantly, images flew through my mind. I could see Ratchet, working long hours in this very hangar, expertly piecing the body back together. Welding Jazz back together with such care that only the faintest of scars would ever remain. Metal shone, freshly waxed, as clean as could be. Saw Ratchet respectfully draping the body with the white tarp.

Saw that the body was _whole_, waiting to be filled with a spark.

_:Not yet, Samuel. This one will have to wait.:_

The hairs on the back of my neck lifted at the genderless voice in my head. Apparently, Jazz would have to wait. And really, what could I do for him, anyway? It was then that I saw what..._**who**_...I was looking for.

In a table off to the side opposite of Jazz was a table that I could just barely see had a black box resting on it. The closer I got, the more the buzzing increased along my arms. The table was Cybertronian sized, matching the one Jazz was resting on, but this table was stationary, no wheels on it. However it did have a human set of stairs attached to it. I raced up what felt like two flights of stairs and stepped onto the surface of the table. The box was resting before me and, for who it contained, it looked ridiculously small on the stainless steel surface of the table. To be honest, it was about the size of a Fiat.

_This_ was what held Ironhide's remains.

It wasn't that his name was written on the box. The box was devoid of any characters or glyphs. I didn't even need to open the box to know what was inside. My link to the Primes told me that. The awareness sang along my nerves in a brief, white hot burst of knowledge.

_:Found.:_

"Well, great," I muttered as I stood near the box, staring down at it. "Ironhide has been found, so now Primus can do his little thing and bring him back. Right?"

There was an electronic burbling in my mind and even though it wasn't loud, it was uncomfortable. A humming sound echoed around me, very softly, almost like a car with a badass subwoofer or something. I took a careful step away from the box when I saw a faint glow begin to spill over the box.

"What the hell," I frowned as the glow engulfed the box and shielded my eyes with my arm, while still trying to see what was going on.

The glow vanished with a sudden popping sound and the hangar was really dark for a second, then it was back to its dim state.

It was then that I noticed that the box was gone. I heard a creeping sound directly behind me, a shifting of metal that I associated with a Cybertronian walking around. I turned around slowly, fully expecting to see Ironhide behind me. Dread and fear filled me because I knew that the last thing he'd known was the beginning of a skirmish. Would he be expecting that now?

There was a snorting sound, a venting of hot air that gusted over my head as I looked up at the mech.

"Shit!" It wasn't Ironhide that I saw. What I saw was almost worse.

Standing behind me, looming over me, was one of the Primes.

_:Found, found, now find again.:_

_Aww, hell. They sent __**this**__ guy? _It was 'seems to not be all there in the processor' Prime. He was obviously a Prime of few words. "Where did he go?"

_:Coordinates sent to you. Fiiiiiind.:_

What was with this guy? Frankenstein Prime? Zombie Prime? "Coordinates? Why coordinates?" Then my brain latched onto the second word that he said. _Sent_. "How are you sending them? Email? Text? Facebook message?"

_:Soon, very soon. Be aware.:_

It was then that a headache began pounding, ever so slightly, between my eyes. I instantly got flashbacks of the glyphs that danced in my head after I got zapped by the shard. "No, no, c'mon, really? Can't you just pm me on Facebook? My user name is SamDaMan2..."

But the Prime vanished with a slight snarl and a weird gleam in his red optics. I swear he looked almost amused and annoyed all at once.

"...17." A growing sense of something began to gain weight, almost, in my head. The pounding increased slightly. I knew I had to get out of here. Channeling my inner jogger, I bolted for the stairs. At the top of the stairs, I had to stop and grip the railing because my vision swam for a second before settling.

With a determined grunt, I cautiously ran down the stairs as fast as I could. Even though it felt like it took forever, I knew it didn't. Before long, I was running back through and out of the hangar. If I had looked back, I might have seen the slight sea breeze rustling the silken tarp that covered Jazz. Or how the edges of the tarp continued to swirl in the breeze, long after the door had shut behind me.

Instead, I was leaning against the hangar itself, shielded from the bright sunlight by a slight overhang of the hangar's roof. Digging my phone out of my pocket, I quickly sent a text to Bee. I knew he could find me by pinpointing my cell's signal. I didn't wait much longer than a few minutes before he was coming around the corner of a nearby hangar.

Could I have tapped out the message I was about to receive into my phone's note app? No chance. My phone didn't have the Cybertronian glyph keyboard installed. I knew that this would be easier with old fashioned pen and paper.

Bee slowed down in front of me, swinging open the driver's door as he did.

Gratefully, I slid away from the hangar, wincing as the sun hit me in the eyes. I all but collapsed into the driver's seat, keeping my hands and legs away from the door as Bee shut it.

"You okay, Sam?"

"Darken the tint, please?"

He did so, bringing a little relief. "Do you need to go to Ratchet?"

Knowing he probably was a second away from comming the CMO, I just barely stopped myself from shaking my head. "No, this'll pass. I just need a pen and paper asap."

He was in motion even as he was asking me why.

"Primes," I grimaced, pressing my palms against my temples. "Apparently they haven't gotten on Facebook yet."

That Bee didn't crack a joke back showed me how worried he was.

In probably the same amount of time it took for me to get down the stairs and out of the hangar, less actually, Bee had me back at the hangar that held my...

"This isn't my place, Bee."

"Ratchet wants to see you."

"Bee! I thought you had my back." I bit back a hiss of pain as the headache felt like it doubled in intensity.

The driver's door opened and I felt metal reach in and cautiously pluck me from Bee's cab. I was shaded from the sun by what I knew to be a hand, while the other hand held me. "Message from the Primes, huh?"

Ratchet's gruff voice was not exactly welcomed at the moment. It dawned on me that Bee must've told Ratchet why my head was hurting.

Wordlessly, I nodded, then regretted it. "Pen, paper, something. I don't care if you have me write this out with energon."

My eyes were shut from the pain, and though Ratchet was walking as smoothly as he could, and handling me as gently as possible, it was still a bit jarring when he placed me on the top of one of the metal berths. I cracked open one eye to see that Ratchet was turning back towards me with a ridiculously large piece of paper and a small, nay, tiny in his hands pen.

The area rug sized piece of paper was placed in front of me and Ratchet delicately handed off the pen to me. I crawled to the center of the paper and the second that I placed the pen to the surface, that weird feeling grabbed me again. I felt my body moving on its own, scribbling at an almost frantic pace.

For the pain that I experienced, the phantom writing session didn't last very long. I was glad of it, but it seemed a bit anticlimactic. Less than five minutes later, I was done. Much like when I had carved the glyphs in the dirt for Jetfire, I'd written down the glyphs in a couple of arcs around me.

"Good thing you gave me the big sheet of paper," I joked up at Ratchet. When I didn't get a reply, I stared at both of them. "Guys? Hello?"

"Optimus is on his way," Ratchet said in an almost automatic reply. Then doc bot blinked in that odd, camera lens shutter flickering sort of way that they all did, and turned away from me. "I'll get you a mild pain reliever for your headache, Samuel."

As I watched him stride towards the rear of the hangar, I looked over at Bee. "Uh, what's with him?"

My bff walked closer, looking from Ratchet's direction and back to me. "That message is what caused your headache?"

"Uh huh," I avoided nodding. Even though the pressure had vanished the moment I started writing, there was still a bit of pain. I wanted to _**not**_ throw up all over Ratchet or Bee. "Only this time I used a pen and paper, as opposed to smearing cake icing on a table or painting on the walls." I frowned. "Or using the chalkboard of the most annoying professor in the world." I almost chuckled when I thought of that guy. If he hadn't been such an arrogant self-absorbed ass, he might have realized what I'd been saying, and done something brilliant with my knowledge.

"I thought you weren't seeing the glyphs anymore."

"I wasn't," I managed to squeak out in answer as Ratchet stalked back over.

"Yes, Samuel. Have you been hiding something from us?" Ratchet loomed over me, much as Spacey Prime had. He thunked down the glass of water (again, ridiculously small in his hands, normal when it was near me) and held his hand near my shoulder.

"No?" Guessing he had aspirin or something in that hand, I reached out. Luckily, he dropped two white pills into my hand and, as they were regular sized pills, I figured they were indeed aspirin.

He stared at me and I felt a slight tingle over my skin. "Judging by this scan compared with the last one I did yesterday, I don't think you are keeping anything from us."

And by us, he meant himself. People might think I'm dumb, but I'm not an idiot. No way would I keep any tiny thing from Ratchet. He's not allowed to whack us humans in the head with a wrench like he does to the bots on base, but he knows ways to make a human's life a living hell. Not that Optimus will let him go too far, but still, it's Ratchet.

Even though a bit of me was perturbed that he was scanning me, a larger part of me said to let it go. It was just how Ratchet was.

"No, I haven't been hiding anything," I blurted out, somehow managing somehow to not sound as annoyed as I felt. "The whole seeing glyphs thing subsided, I guess is the best way to explain it. I can't read things written in Cybertronian, but sometimes I see a flicker of a glyph from the corner of my eye. It vanishes before I can focus on it."

In a way, the glyphs I saw were almost ghost-like, but I knew I couldn't tell Ratchet or Optimus that, because I doubted their culture had ghosts. They died, were extinguished, and the went to the Well or the Pit. Their versions of Heaven and Hell. When we died, based on what one believed, it was Heaven, Hell, or roaming the world as a ghost.

And honestly, the glyphs I saw, which weren't many, didn't impede on my life. They weren't barging in and saying, "Oh hey, check this out!"

"What is the frequency that you see these ghostly glyphs?"

"Uh, maybe once or twice every other month?"

Ratchet looked thoughtful and carefully plucked me up from the table to place me onto the floor. "That doesn't seem frequent enough to be concerned with, however, you had best tell me when they do become more frequent."

Relief stole through me. "Of course, Ratchet!" _Don't lay it on too thick, Sammie..._ "I promise I'll, uh, I'll keep a journal of every glyph I see, okay?"

He gave me a narrowed glance, but seemed satisfied. Shifting his gaze to Bee, he gave my guardian plenty of orders to keep an eye on me for the rest of the day. "If he so much as sneezes, I want to know."

Bumblebee gave an affirmative chirp and transformed back into his alt, popping open the driver's side door as he did.

I resisted a yawn, successfully thank you, and gratefully slid into his cab.

When he peeled out of the hangar, I was incredibly grateful that I was nausea free. Puking in your best bud was a little lame.

* * *

Yeah, so Mike the Headless Chicken was real.

Mimosa Prime or Not All There Prime. Anyone have a favorite? :D


End file.
